6.

"So which one?"

Dawn frowned, head on one side. What a cutie she was sometimes.

"I'm not sure," her brow knitted, "Did you say you want slutty or just...?"

She sighed, threw the top to join the others on the floor.

"This one?"

Her sister's mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust. God, sometimes....it was wierd the times Dawn reminded her of Mom. Or was it herself? She couldn't differentiate.

"That one's so.....grey."

Was she colour-blind now?

"It's purple!"

Another face,

"You know what I mean. Don't you want to look...you know...sexy?"

God, how was it she was growing up so fast? She raised her eyebrows, enough already.

"Did I say that? Sexy does not enter into the equation. I want...capable."

The retching sound, God, how she hated that. Had she been this obnoxious as a teenager? She refused to believe it, tried the last one against herself in the mirror. This didn't say capable, but it did say...flat chested. She sighed. Why was that even an issue? Was Dawn right? Did she want to look sexy tonight? She reached around in her head, tried to get a hold on her feelings about having him here, in her house, with Giles and Xander and Anya. God, Xander and Anya. This was going to be a tough one.

"How 'bout this one?"

She was in her closet now, going through her things with the smooth practice of someone who knew their way around. Held out the white lace one. Hadn't seen that in a while. She shook her head firmly,

"Why not? It's pretty!"

And now she could felt her face heating up,

"Remember that night...the one I wouldn't tell you about, no matter how many times you asked? When the...building fell down?"

Dawn's eyes went wide, saucers, flushed scarlet, shoved the blouse to the very back.

"Right. Go with the purple one. Good choice!"

This was wierd. Everything felt so...what was that term Giles used...'off kilter', and everyone was feeling it. When she'd gone round to Xander's, found the two of them kneeling on the floor, deep breathing together, practicing their le mars thingy, she'd tried to make it sound really casual. Just a little get-together, to celebrate Willow's breakthrough, Gile's visit, no biggie. But she had felt Xander's discomfort when he'd asked,

"And is he going to be there?"

Was there any way out of this that wouldn't involve the shouting and the probable bloodshed?

"Yes, I asked him to come."

Xander's head went down, slid Anya off his lap.

"Look Buff, I meant what I said before. If you want to forgive him, well...that's your decision. But you can't expect us to just...."

Involuntarily his eyes flicked to Anya, it was enough. She threw down Dr Spock,

"Oh, I see! So when you said it was all behind us...what you actually meant was 'I won't mention it unless I happen to think of it'. Well...thank you very much Xander, now I have to pee again."

She stalked away in the direction of the bathroom, her grand exit only slightly marred by the fluffy hippo slippers, and slammed the door so hard it made the frame jump. He sighed, got to his feet putting the exercise mat away. Buffy felt a stir of guilt. She hadn't meant to bring up painful memories, now Anya was mad and it was all her fault. The bathroom door swung open again and a sweetly smiling face poked out,

"Honey, could you get my robe? I'm going to take a bath now."

"Sure thing cup-cake."

The door closed and he saw her looking at him, eyebrows raised,

"It's a mood thing. This morning she made me waffles for breakfast and burnt one..."

He indicated the ceiling above their heads, a gelatinous mess of honey and waffle batter.

"My mom says it'll wear off in....eighteen years or so."

He sunk down into the sofa. So very tired and, after a second or two, she joined him. Listened to the water running in the bathtub, Anya's singing, was that, the Carpenters? Wouldn't have guessed that one. They risked a look at each other. Contrition on both sides. So, cut me some slack Xander, this is hard for me too you know? She saw him feel that, the kindly big brother part of him start to kick in.

"So how is he....you know, so different?"

She hadn't known how to answer that one. Only knew that he was. Different. Now she looked at herself in the mirror again, for at least the twentieth time that night, pulled at the strap on her haltertop. The question was, how was she.

The doorbell went, followed by the thunderous sound of Dawn's feet on the stairs.

"I'll get it!"

and suddenly she felt queasy, like sea-sickness but without the pleasant holiday associations. Was this really such a good idea? Maybe a public place would have been safer, with lots of people, somewhere bright. Bright. So strange to think of seeing him in sunlight. She glanced out of the window, saw the sun wasn't quite down yet, moved to the dresser, selected a lipstick that said 'pretty' rather than 'take me now'.

"So you're not planning on jumping his bones tonight then?"

Anya stood in the doorway, an earnest look on her face, one hand resting on her barely noticeable bump. Buffy flushed,

"Not tonight or any time. Really," she couldn't tell what she was thinking, "It's just dinner. I thought...I said we could just try to make a fresh start."

Anya studied her, folded her arms.

"So the being human now thing? That's not...like a big deal to you?"

This was a mine-field, she could feel it. Discussing the semantics of reanimation with a moody, pregnant, two-time-ex-vengeance demon? Really not the best way to get the night off to a melodious start. She considered lying but if there was one thing that Anya knew, it was the truth.

"It's a big deal, Anya, it's a very big deal. I'm just saying...everything doesn't change just because he can...see his reflection now. We all have stuff to talk about."

She thought she saw her nod, seem about to go, but then she was walking over, closing the door behind her. Oh God, was she going to end up like the waffles? Her eyes darted around for a means of escape. But suddenly, oh too wierd. This was...too wierd. She was hugging her. Not just a cursory squeeze, really hugging, with actual warmth. Hormones were so strange. She pulled back a little, saw she was a little teary-eyed.

"It's not just the hormones. I want you to be happy Buffy. Because I'm happy!" she shook her head, surprised at herself, "Isn't that odd?"

She choked, tried not to laugh,

"It is. Thanks. I'd like that too."

She wasn't letting go though,

"I mean, I don't like anyone any more than I did before, but suddenly I don't want to kill them all. At least," she grinned, a little crazy now. "Not tonight anyway!"

She suddenly realised that they'd been hugging for a little longer than was necessary, stood back, smiled, more normal now,

"That halter makes your boobs disappear."

and with that, nodded, satisfied and let herself out. She could hear Xander downstairs now, messing with Dawn, squeals and Giles' familiar intervention. Was this for the best? Really? Maybe she should have waited, let them all adjust to the idea first. Then the bell again and suddenly her time was up.

From the top of the stairs she watched Dawn gallop to the door, barely able to contain her excitement, swing it wide. God, this was so strange. He was standing on the porch taking in the sunset, hands in pockets, and it wasn't just the hair now, the clothes. It was all of him. His face as he turned to see Dawn, just lit up from inside. She remembered it before, always that mask of cool, reserved affection for the littlest Summers, so wary of appearing too soft, too human. Now, she thought he would have whooped with delight if he'd known how to. Grabbed Dawn, hugged her, stared at her in amazement,

"Good God Niblet! Have you grown a metre?"

"Two inches since June!"

She was as thrown as he was, but completely overwhelmed by her happiness to see him. They took in the faces of the others and then her fingers were winding their way through his. Turning the tables on the whole thing. He glanced at her, grateful for her protection. She saw Dawn draw herself up, ready for the onslaught and felt a stab of pride. Dawn loved Spike, she believed in him and she was ready to stand up for that. Her little sister. So why couldn't she?

She took a step, craned her head around the banister. Not ready just yet though. Need to see how this is going to play out. Uncomfortable silence was an understatement, somebody say something, anything.

"So, the whole breathing thing? How's that working out for ya?"

It was a start and for Xander, a miraculously polite one. She could see Spike struggling for an answer that wouldn't tip the whole evening into chaos.

"It's...ah...fun. Yeah."

More silence. Giles sipped a brandy a little too casually. God, this was like watching a car crash, an incredibly lo-speed car crash involving inflatable clown cars. God, now Anya,

"Are you finding the sweating a problem? I've found zinc based products..."

she caught a look from Giles, got a little indignant,

"Well, what would you know? You've been a constant ninety-eight degrees your whole life."

This was going to turn ugly unless they changed the subject and now she could sense Giles coming to the rescue,

"So, I...how was...Africa?"

Dawn's eyes were dancing, gripping his arm,

"Did you see any lions?"

They were on safe ground here. Animals.

"No, but on the way across the desert? I saw them setting up for Star Wars: Episode Three..."

And then Xander was in,

"Subtitled: Computer Generated Grimace: Death Of Any Kind Of Interesting Plotline."

And suddenly she knew it was going to be OK. There would be always be the friction, distrust but she knew now that she had underestimated the changes in both of them. Xander was giving Spike the benefit of the doubt, perhaps for the first time in their long and bitter assocation. When had he suddenly grown up? In the twenty minutes she'd been fussing with her hair in the bathroom? She looked from her friend to his radiant girlfriend, her arm looped through his, smiling up at him and suddenly she knew. The change had been there for a while. It wasn't when Anya had forgiven him, it was when he'd forgiven himself.

With a deep breath she straightened up, adjusted the straps beneath her white, lace top. This wasn't going to be easy, but as her Mom had always told her, nothing worthwhile ever was. She took a step down the stairs, felt his eyes on her, full of surprise and delight. Then Dawn's, noticing her outfit, understanding the implication, breaking into a knowing grin.

"That's much better!" Anya beamed, "And your breasts look magnificent!"